


Marks

by TheOtherWinchester



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Child Neglect, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherWinchester/pseuds/TheOtherWinchester
Summary: Reid recalls the first time Hotch saw his scars and how he got them as a kid.





	Marks

Spencer Reid went through the motions of everyday life quietly. He didn’t complain or act out. In fact he hardly talked and he was a straight A student. 

On the outside, Spencer looked fine. He didn’t appear to be too abnormal, although his tendency to shy away from people did make some of the other students nervous. He didn’t appear to be depressed, but he never appeared to be happy either. He just existed. 

After school everyday, he would go home to find his mother painting, and even though he knew it was hopeless and childish, he would always hope he would find his father reading the paper or mowing the lawn. He never did. 

Spencer’s mother had a schizophrenic break, and when she needed her husband most, he left her with their adolescent son. Spencer hid behind books and statistics to make himself feel more in control. He learned all he could about the illness and he even thought that maybe if he could just figure out what caused it, maybe he could fix it. There was no fixing his mother though. She was already too far gone. 

It kind of sucks to have one parent go crazy and then have the other parent leave, as if they weren’t needed. Yeah, his mom was being difficult, but there was no reason to leave a twelve year old kid with a woman that forgot to cook for her son every night. She would never forget to read to him though. Spencer always loved it when she read to him. Her favorite was Chaucer, and that meant that Chaucer was Spencer’s favorite. He would never get sick of his mom reading and re reading her favorite works of his. There were less good times than bad, but the good times made all the bad times worth it. Almost. 

Nobody ever really noticed how upset Spencer was, because he never told anybody, and the staff didn’t know anything about his mother’s affliction because he kept it hidden, like a prepubescent boy hides one of his dad’s Hustler magazines between his mattress and box spring. As an adult, Spencer would look back at this time in his life and he would regret doing it, but not enough to where he would wish he hadn’t. Spence needed an outlet, and he found one. It just wasn’t the best one. 

As soon as Spencer found out what was going on with his mom, he made a point to get rid of everything sharp in the house, because he didn’t want her to hurt herself. He was a hypocrite that way. Between his box spring and mattress, you wouldn’t find a Hustler or a comic book or a still of a porn star. He had too much on his plate for that useless garbage. Between his mattress and box spring was where he hid his tools. They had to stay hidden from his mom, but often when things would get too rough, Spencer would lift his twin sized mattress, grab the baggy, and sit on the edge of the bed figuring out which one felt right. He kept paper clips, safety pins, a blade that never got used, and a lighter in that baggy. The lighter wasn’t a tool, just a compliment to the others. He used it to light the candles in his bathroom. That’s one good thing about being an only child- no fighting over the bathroom. After he would decide what tool to use, he would walk into the bathroom and rub alcohol on it, just as a precaution, along with rubbing alcohol on his inner thigh. The arms would be too conspicuous. When he felt the tool and area were clean enough, he would gently press it against his skin to feel the coolness of it. Paper clips were his favorite tool. They could do so much damage, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never bend them back to perfection. They would always be bent and blemished and broken, just like himself. He liked that. Safety pins were nice and easy. They were so sharp, he would barely have to move it across his smooth skin to get any kind of reaction and if he wanted more blood, he could just press harder. 

Nobody on his team knew any of this until he started a relationship with Hotch, because relationships generally lead to sex, and with Hotch, it was almost a necessity. The first time they were together, he took off Spencer’s khakis and saw angry looking scars all around his thighs. It was almost nice, because he had thighs to kiss and a good reason to kiss them. They didn’t fuck that night. Hotch just kissed him everywhere he saw a line, and hoped that his kisses would leave a mark that even the scars wouldn’t bury.


End file.
